


The Season Unending

by hotleafjuice



Series: Guarded By the Sky [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Skyrim Main Quest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:54:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotleafjuice/pseuds/hotleafjuice
Summary: The Dragonborn comes.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Agmaer
Series: Guarded By the Sky [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1032608
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. A Prophecy Foretold

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the sequel. No beta, as usual.

Auerelie watched stoned-faced as a grim parade of wagons entered Helgen. It seemed an anticlimactic ending to the civil war to see Ulfric Stormcloak bound, gagged, and bumping around in a cart packed with his comrades. She wondered if the Jarl of Windhelm would remember her, and after five years, she still carried the ebony sword gifted from his armory.

She avoided the Thalmor delegation that rode behind General Tullius and hid herself amongst the townspeople gathered to watch the executions. Auerelie pulled her hood down as far as she could and cursed Isran for this assignment. A week spent in Helgen, and she found nothing to suggest vampire activity. If Isran was trying to delay her retirement, they were going to have words, possibly accompanied by swords.

The Stormcloak soldiers shuffled single file as an Imperial Legionnaire captain checked their names off her list. Auerelie could respect their straight-backed steadfastness even as they marched to the headsman’s block.

There was a priestess of Arkay singing a dirge in the old Nordic language, and the sky seemed to cloud over in somber recognition.

A sudden harsh, hot wind blew from the east, and Auerelie frowned at the sound that came with it. She closed her eyes, listening to the wind whistling around her, and for just a moment, she thought she could hear words in a strange language.

The air turned acrid and heavy, and a shadow descended from the clouds.

There was immediate chaos when the dragon landed on the highest tower. Auerelie started backing away, but she swore the creature’s eyes were following her. It opened its great maw, and fire started to rain from the sky.

Auerelie ducked behind the nearest wall, her eyes wide as she watched massive chunks of rock and balls of fire shatter the earth. The whole world seemed to come apart when one of the boulders crashed into the fort. The screams were almost loud enough to drown out the dragon’s roar and the destruction of the town.

The building next to her burst into flames, and Auerelie took off running. A child screamed, which sent her immediately veering off toward the sound. A boy stood frozen in fear as the dragon swooped toward him. She grabbed him, tucking him against her body as she rolled heavily to one side.

The ground shuddered when the beast landed.

It swung its head around toward them, and Auerelie pushed the boy behind her. She braced herself for the dragon’s fire using her strongest ward. It never came.

A well timed arrow struck the beast in the eye, and its scream of rage shook the earth.

Spewing fire, the dragon took to the sky again. Auerelie grabbed the boy and pulled him behind the cluster of bushes the arrow came from. The Imperial soldier still had his bow drawn, and he looked at her in surprise. His gaze fell to her unexpected charge.

“Haming! Behind me!”

“We have to get out of here!” Auerelie looked around, but it was difficult to see through the smoke and fire.

“There.” The soldier pointed to an uncollapsed section of the fort. “We’ll have to make a run for it.”

She shook her head. “We won’t make it.”

“No choice.”

Auerelie sighed heavily and steeled herself. “Alright. You take the boy, and I’ll cover you.”

“I have the bow--”

“And I’m a battlemage,” she cut in. “Go!”

“Hadvar, where my parents?” Haming looked up at them with watery eyes.

“I don’t know Haming,” Hadvar answered as he drew his sword. “But we need to get to safety first.”

They waited until the dragon circled around the other side of the town then ran. Hadvar had Haming on his back, and Auerelie kept up a ward with one hand and held a spear of ice in the other.

They had to duck and weave around debris and the bodies of the dead and dying. Hadvar passed under a wide arch and had to stumble back when the dragon tried to make a grab for him.

Auerelie took point. “The door is right there. When I say run, do it.” She worked on creating larger spear, and when the dragon came for them again, she threw it mightily.

“Run!”

Hadvar took off, and he made it inside the fort just in time to see Auerelie disappear behind the dragon’s bulk.

***

Hadvar armed Haming with a dagger. “We’ll find another exit. You rest for a moment while I find something for that cut.”

Haming did not realize his arm was bleeding, but now that the andredlin was wearing off, the pain made itself known. He was shaking, but held his ground when the door suddenly opened.

Hadvar whirled around, sword in hand. “Ralof?!” He stalked forward, but pulled up short when Auerelie ducked inside seconds later.

Auerelie looked between the two men, Hadvar in Legionnaire armor and Ralof wearing Stormcloak colors, and sighed. “We don’t have time for this.”

Haming inched over to Auerelie, and she dropped her cloak around him. “Surely, there’s another way out of here?”

“I’m not going anywhere with this damned traitor.”

“Listen here, you Imperial dog--”

“Stop. Just…” She shook her head tiredly. “You know what, fucking kill each other. Haming, come with me.” She breezed past the both of them, Haming practically glued to her side.

Hadvar and Ralof caught up with them after several long minutes. Both of the soldiers were scowling deeply, but no one was out for blood for the moment. Hadvar took the lead since he knew the fort’s layout better than anyone else.

It seemed to take hours to find a viable exit, and by that time, Haming was so exhausted that Hadvar had to carry him. Ralof had a nasty wound from a frostbite spider, and Auerelie carried whatever gear they were able to salvage along the way.

***

It was almost obscene how bright and peaceful the land looked when somewhere behind them, Helgen burned to the ground.

Auerelie gestured to Ralof’s arm. “Let me have a look at that.”

“I don’t need your help, knife-ear.”

She shrugged. “If you want your arm to rot off, that’s your business.”

Haming inhaled sharply. “That won’t really happen, will it?” He fingered the bandages around his own arm.

“No, child.” She paused. “Well, only if it gets infected.”

Hadvar sighed heavily. “Stop scaring him, elf.”

“I have a name,  _ nord _ .” She tended to the small fire they had going. Riverwood was about a day’s journey away, but none of them were in the condition to make the trek.

“Yes, of course.” Hadvar looked a little contrite. “I’m Hadvar. My uncle is the blacksmith in Riverwood. I know he’ll help us out.” He pointedly did not look at Ralof.

“And my sister runs the mill there. Name’s Ralof.” He looked as though he would rather be anywhere else.

“Let me look at your arm, Ralof.” She looked up from digging in her pack. “And my name is Auerelie.”

Reluctantly, Ralof sat beside her holding out his arm. The wound was deep and still oozing blood. She pulled out a small bottle and a roll of bandages.

“That’s… handy. You just walk around with expensive potions?” He eyed her warily.

“Yes. Precautions of the job.” She uncorked the bottle, releasing the scent of iron and earth. She held his arm with surprising care and cleaned and wrapped the wound with practiced efficiency.

“What’s your job?” Haming asked as he peered over her shoulder to watch.

“I am a member of the Dawnguard.” She touched the sun-shield emblem on her chest. “And Helgen was supposed to be my last job.”

Hadvar frowned deeply. “There were  _ vampires _ in Helgen?” Everyone knew about the Dawnguard that rose to prominence several years ago, and with them, many of the creatures that preyed upon mortals were hunted down and destroyed.

“No,” she replied as she repacked supplies. “Rumors, and it turned out to be nothing.”

“Why your last job?” Ralof’s eyes narrowed on her, but he felt a grudging respect.

“Retirement.”

Hadvar’s brows rose. “You can retire from the vampire hunting?”

Auerelie forced a smile. “For most people, retirement is death. But I have other plans.”

Ralof snorted “Do they include going back to where you came from?”

“You should be nicer to her. She just help save our lives.” Haming’s expression was firm despite wringing his hands.

“It’s alright, Haming. I’m used to it.” She handed him some dried meat and bread.

“Are all the nords mean to you?”

She laughed softly. “No, some of them are quite nice. My husband, in particular, is  _ very nice _ to me.”

Hadvar could not help but chuckle at her response, and Ralof rolled his eyes.

They made due with what Auerelie could spare from her pack for their dinner. Luckily, the night passed uneventfully, and early in the morning, they started for Riverwood.

***

Auerelie had passed through Riverwood several times over the years, but she never really paid much attention to the village and certainly never spent any significant time there. To her, it appeared like any other nord village, and she suddenly wished that Agmaer was there at her side.

Once they crossed over into Riverwood, Ralof immediately peeled off to see his sister at the mill. Hadvar offered Auerelie and Haming shelter with his uncle, Alvor. The blacksmith was surprised to see the tired, bedraggled trio and quickly ushered them inside.

Sigrid was kind enough to feed them, and it felt good to have an actual meal. Auerelie kept a wandering eye on Haming, who made a fast friend with Alvor’s daughter, Dorthe. She never ceased to be amazed at the resilient nature of children.

Half listening to the conversation between Hadvar and his uncle, Auerelie picked at a heel of bread.

“Auerelie?” She looked over at Hadvar.

“We… need to ask something of you.”

Alvor nodded. “I can give you any supplies I can spare, but the Jarl in Whiterun needs to know about Helgen.” He sighed. “You’ve seen our village. What can we hope to do against a dragon?” He ran his hands over his face. “Dragons. The bringers of the end times.” He looked over at his wife and daughter.

“I would have expected you to ask this of Hadvar.”

“I have to get to Solitude as quickly as possible,” Hadvar answered. “I have to see General Tullius and figure out where to go from there. We’re already at war and now dragons.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Gods…”

She sighed. “I will do this. What can you tell me about the Jarl?”

Alvor looked thoughtful for a moment. “Jarl Balgruuf is a good man, perhaps a bit over-cautious. But these are dangerous times.”

“I’ll head out first thing in the morning.” She stood. “I’ll head on to the inn.”

“No, lass, stay.” Alvor waved to her to sit back down. “We can put you up for the night. Any friend of Hadvar’s is a friend of mine.”

She did not mention that she had never met Hadvar before today. She was not one to turn down free food and lodging. Her gaze drifted over to Haming, and she came to the realization that his parents were likely dead. She wondered if anyone else had escaped Helgen before it burned to the ground.


	2. Dovahkiin

“You were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?” Balgruuf leaned forward, the light of the braziers turning him to gold. Flanked by his Housecarl, Irileth and his Steward, Proventus Avenicci, Auerelie supposed that it should have been intimidating, but all she felt was bone-deep weariness.

“Yes.” She clasped her hands behind her back, standing at parade rest. “I was in Helgen. And I know as about as much as anyone else.”

The Jarl’s brother circled her as though she was prey. “And what was your business in Helgen, elf?” Hrongar stepped up to her, one hand resting on his sword.

“I was investigating the rumor of vampire activity,” she replied, uncowed. “I am a member of the Dawnguard.” Despite being a beast of a man, she was still taller than Hrongar, and she took petty satisfaction in it.

Balgruuf sighed heavily. “Vampires?”

“Just rumor. I was in Helgen a week and found nothing.”

“But the dragon? What can you tell me about it?”

“It appeared out of the east. A massive creature with black scales and glowing eyes.” She shook her head. “It destroyed the entire town without effort. Everything was mass confusion and panic. Some people escaped, but… I don’t know where. Alvor sent me here to relay this news.”

“Alvor? The smith, isn't he? Reliable, solid fellow. Not prone to flights of fancy.” Balgruuf turned to his Housecarl. “Irileth, send a detachment of troops at once. And tell them that if that dragon should appear and the town is lost, bring everyone back to Whiterun.”

Irileth bowed her head. “It will be done.”

“Thank you for bringing this to me. I didn’t get your name, I’m afraid.”

“Auerelie.”

“You’ve done me a tremendous service.” He stood. “I will see you rewarded, but… perhaps there is something else you do for me and my people.” He motioned her to join him. “I'll introduce you to Farengar. He can be a bit... difficult. But he’s been looking into a matter related to these dragons and... rumors of dragons.”

Auerelie decided to humor the Jarl and went with him.

Farengar was busy pouring over an ancient looking map when they walked into his laboratory. It took the Jarl clearing his throat to make him look up from his work.

“Farengar, I have someone here that came from Helgen. She may be able to help you with your dragon research.” He held up his hand to forestall the wizard. “This isn't some theoretical question. Dragons have come back.”

Farengar turned his attention to Auerelie and frowned. “The Jarl thinks you can be of use to me.” He made a disparaging noise. “I need someone to go to Bleak Falls Barrow. There is a 'Dragonstone,' said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. I need it.”

Auerelie looked between the two men. “Jarl Balgruuf, I’m neither a mercenary nor an adventurer-for-hire.” She took a step back. “I kept my promise to Alvor and delivered the news about Helgen. From there, my responsibility ends.”

Balgruuf crossed his arms. “Surely, a dragon attack is enough to make this important to you. Isn’t your job to protect the people of Skyrim? As the Jarl of Whiterun, I ask this of you.”

“Ask or command?”

“You want to argue the semantics?”

Auerelie sighed. “No, I wish to go home. It’s a long trip back to Fort Dawnguard.”

“I have no one else I can trust this to. I know of no one else capable enough to handle this.” Balgruuf grabbed her arm. “I’ll give you whatever is in my power to give if you come back with that tablet.”

She looked down at where the Jarl’s hand was wrapped so tightly around her forearm that his knuckles were turning white. She flexed her arm, testing his grip. “Fine.”

He released her immediately. “Thank you.”

Auerelie nodded sharply, her mouth pressed into a tight, unhappy line. She was quick to leave Dragonsreach and took consolation that at least the barrow was relatively closeby.

***

Auerelie adjusted the pack over her shoulder and winced. The Dragonstone weighed a ton, and all she wanted to do was drop it off and crawl into bed for a year. The quest had been as ridiculous as some of the tasks she performed for Isran over the years.

As she started up the main road to the city, she heard the steady  _ slap _ ,  _ slap _ ,  _ slap _ of boots on stone. She turned around and watched as a figure raced across the bridge and headed straight toward her. Under her cloak, she fingered one of her daggers. It was not until their hood flew back that she relaxed so suddenly that her knees nearly gave out.

Agmaer practically crashed into Auerelie, his arms locking around her. “Gods…” He tried to pull her even closer. “I heard about Helgen. I thought…” He squeezed his eyes shut and silently thanked every Divine. “I passed through Riverwood… and…”

Auerelie kissed him fiercely. “I have to go back to Whiterun. I performed an… errand for the Jarl.”

“Really?” He took a small step back and frowned at her weary expression.

“Come on. I’ll explain everything.” She took his hand after he shouldered her pack.

They were nearly at the stables when Auerelie heard a familiar sound--a dragon’s roar. She looked up to see a dragon coming over the mountains and toward the eastern watchtower. Agmaer could not quite believe what he was seeing.

“Auerelie… that’s… a…”

“Dragon.” She heaved a sigh. “We should go help them, yes?”

Agmaer nodded, his expression tightening. “You go on. I have my crossbow, but I have to assemble it.”

She took off running, passing farmers fleeing into their homes. The smell of scorched earth carried on the wind.

By the time she made to the western watchtower, most of it had been destroyed. The dry grasses were still burning, and she could hear guards shouting. The dragon swooped low, taking one guard with it.

Irileth was trying to reorganize her troops, but it was difficult in the chaos. Auerelie made a dash for cover amongst the chunks of stone that had once been part of the watchtower.

The guards released another hail of arrows, and Auerelie wished desperately that Jenassa was here. She shot an arc of lightning the next time the beast went for them.

There was a loud  _ snap _ then the dragon suddenly veered off to the side and crashed hard to the ground. Everyone was taken off their feet.

The dragon flailed, but its right wing was damaged. Aurelie could see a steel bolt sticking out of the juncture of where the wing met shoulder. It did not make the beast less dangerous as it breathed breathed fire and snapped dagger-like teeth.

Irileth came at the dragon with blade and flame, and she almost seemed to dance as she avoided claws and fangs.

The dragon swung its head around, taking off the arm of one of the guards.

There was another snap and a bolt pierced its side.

Enraged, the dragon pulled itself up and spewed out fire so hot it melted stone.

One of the guards tried to run, but the creature snatched him in its jaws. The screams were cut off in a shower of blood.

Auerelie focused a bolt of lightning against the puncture wound in the dragon’s side, but quickly had to roll out of the way of a blast of fire.

Everyone was forced to scramble when the dragon reared back again to bellow flame. Auerelie was caught by its whipping tail and sent her flying back into a deep puddle.

Agmaer appeared over the hill, and he let another bolt fly. Pierced the beast’s neck.

After a long moment, Auerelie got to her feet, her ears ringing. She shivered at the wetness seeping through the gaps in her armor. She flung her arms out, and droplets of water floated from the ground and the air surrounding her. She raised her arms up then back, the droplets elongating into spears.

The dragon raised itself up on its hind legs.

Auerelie shot her hands forward, and numerous spears of ice rained down on the beast. With the dragon pinned down, she threw another bolt of lightning, concentrating on the now gaping wound in its side and frying the beast from the inside.

When the dragon finally collapsed, it shuddered, gasped, and she could hear something like words. She staggered over to the dragon just as it exploded into streams of blinding light.

Screaming.

Agmaer appeared in Auerelie’s line of vision, his expression warring with terror and surprise. He got her to her feet, her body shaking so hard that he had to support her.

“Auerelie?” He gently tapped her cheek. “My love?”

She jerked away from him, her body glowing. “ _ Hon dii zul ahrk so _ !”

“Dragonborn!,” one of the guards shouted. The others looked on, astonished.

“Shout!”

Auerelie turned toward the small group of guards, the light around her finally subsiding. She breathed in deeply, feeling the burn of unfamiliar magic in her veins, then, “ _ FUS _ !” The burst of power sent everyone staggering. One of the guards fell over completely.

Agmaer hesitated to reach out for his wife. He did not know what to feel. All nords revered the Dragonborn, but Auerelie was no nord, and she was done with fighting. He had a hard time picturing her choosing to battle dragons.

“She’s  _ Dovahkiin _ .”

Irileth frowned at the guards. “She brought down a dragon. That’s good enough for me. That’s all that matters.”

Auerelie had not moved or said another word. To Agmaer, it looked as though she were staring off into another world. 

“You better get back to Whiterun right away. Jarl Balgruuf will want to know what happened here.” Irileth stared at the altmer for a moment. “I’ll stay here and help with the dead.”

“Come on, love.” Agmaer took her hand and led her away.

***

Auerelie and Agmaer stood before Jarl Balgruuf, and Farengar stood off to the side with the Dragonstone.

“What happened?” The Jarl felt something odd about Auerelie. “Was the dragon there?”

Agmaer answered, “Yes, Jarl. The watchtower was destroyed, and you lost some men, but the dragon is dead.”

Balgruuf nodded. “What else?”

He cleared his throat, unsure how to answer the question. “Well, after the dragon died… Auerelie absorbed some kind of power from it.”

“Mirmulnir.”

“What’s that?” Agmaer looked up at her.

She held her hand up to her throat. “His name was Mirmulnir.”

The Jarl’s eyes widened. “It’s true. Dragonborn. Just like the old tales.” He shook his head. “Then I wasn’t hearing things. The great boom of thunder that shook the earth… that was the Greybeards summoning you.”

“Why?” She looked lost.

“The Dragonborn is said to be uniquely gifted in the Voice. They can train you to use this power.”

Hrongar shook his head in disbelief. “Didn't you hear the thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun? That was the voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar!” He grinned. “This hasn't happened in...centuries. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still Talos of Atmora!”

Proventus cut in, “Hrongar, calm yourself. What does any of this nord nonsense have to do with our friend here?”

Hrongar growled, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. “Nord nonsense?! Why you puffed-up  _ ignorant _ … these are our sacred traditions that go back to the founding of the First Empire!”

Balgruuf held his hands up for silence. “Enough. The Greybeards have summoned her, and that’s their business. But I wouldn’t tarry. There's no refusing the summons of the Greybeards. It's a tremendous honor.” He stood and gave Auerelie a slight bow of respect. “Go to High Hrothgar. Learn what the Greybeards can teach you.”

Agmaer was starting to worry. Auerelie still appeared in a daze, her eyes unfocused. “Jarl Balgruuf,” he started, “We would like to request your hospitality for a couple of days. Just to… rest up and resupply.”

“Of course.” He turned his attention to Auerelie. “You've done a great service for me and my city, Dragonborn. It will never be forgotten. And so I name you a Thane of Whiterun.”

A murmur rose up from those present.

“I can give you no greater honor, Dragonborn. I also assign to you, Lydia as your personal Housecarl.” Balgruuf seemed to have no idea how much he was upsetting her world and her long sought after peace.

Agmaer thanked the Jarl for the both of them and gladly went off with one of the servants to the guest quarters.

***

“Hey, you should really eat something.” Agmaer pushed a bowl of sliced fruit toward Auerelie. She did not respond, just like she did not respond when he stripped her of her weapons and armor, just like when he gently wiped the sweat from her skin, just like when he wrapped her in blankets.

She looked down at her hands. “What does it mean to be Dragonborn?”

Agmaer took a few moments to think it over. “Well, in the very oldest tales, back from when there were still dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power.” He took her hands. “Dragonborn heroes would use the power of their Voice to defeat the enemies of Skyrim.”

“I don’t want this.” She closed her eyes. “I’m so tired, Agmaer.”

He kissed her forehead.

“So tired. I want to just… be. I want to move into our house in Solitude. I want to stop fighting. I want peace.” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

“I know. But the Gods seem to have other plans.” He pressed his lips to her brow once more. “We’ll go to High Hrothgar together. See what the monks have to say. If nothing else, they can teach you to control your power.”

She nodded. “Alright. Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hon dii zul ahrk so! - hear my voice and despair


	3. The Way of the Voice

Lydia was a talented young warrior with many years ahead of her, and she was swearing that life to an elf. She studied her new Thane with an impassive face, not wishing to offend. Most of the high elves she had met were supercilious, callous, and condescending. Refusing the appointment from the Jarl was not an option, but she had considered it once she found out about Whiterun’s newest hero. Even being Dragonborn did not keep Lydia from disliking Auerelie on principle.

“I am your sword and your shield. As your Housecarl, I’ll protect you and all you possess with my life.” Lydia bowed. “This I swear to you.”

“And if I choose to release you from this oath?”

Lydia frowned. “Then I’ll remain here in disgrace.”

“I understand.” Auerelie bit back a sigh. “We’re leaving in three days for Ivarstead.”

***

“The horses are ready to go,” Agmaer said as he secured the saddle on Frostmoth. “I think they’ve gotten restless since we left them here.” The mare snuffled and gently nipped at his clothes in search of a treat. He fished out an apple and handed it over with a grin.

Auerelie watched the scene with a soft smile, and in that instant, Lydia could see why someone like Agmaer would marry her. Lydia could not quite pin down the intricacies of their relationship and found them to be as different as the day and the night.

With good weather and hard travel, they expected to reach Ivarstead in four days, and the journey passed uneventfully until they reached the ruined towers right outside of the village.

Under the cover of darkness, a vampire and his thralls attacked with the element of surprise.

Lydia was pulled from her horse but recovered quickly. She drew her blade and immediately threw herself into the fray. There were four thralls, all fit nord warriors, and her heart ached for them. One launched herself at Lydia, swinging a warhammer with ease.

The hammer left a deep gouge in the earth. Lydia bashed her shield against the woman, staggering her, but she recovered quickly.

Lydia’s blade was barely able to redirect another blow, their weapons creating a shower of sparks.

With a feint to the left, Lydia was able to get the woman to leave herself open just enough to pierce her side. The thrall clutched her side, and Lydia pressed on. With a well timed stroke, she was able to plunge her sword through her neck.

Lydia turned, finding the other three thralls dead and Agmaer standing nearby with his war axes dripping with blood.

“Where is the Thane?”

Auerelie appeared suddenly, an aura of gold light surrounding her. She held a bound spear.

The vampire ran toward them.

After taking a running start, Auerelie leapt forward, bringing the spear down through the vampire’s back. The creature screamed as it burst into flames and almost immediately crumbled into dust.

Lydia stared at her Thane with wide eyes.

The light around her died, and darkness poured around them once again. Agmaer started wiping the blood from his weapons as Auerelie started to drag off the bodies to be burned. Lydia knew they were seasoned warriors, but seeing them in action was eye-opening.

“Are you alright?”

Lydia turned to Agmaer. “Yes.” She sheathed her sword. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“There are specific techniques used to fight vampires. Auerelie is… a master.” He clapped her on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get this all cleaned up. We’ll have to poke around while we’re in Ivarstead.” He shook his head. “Shouldn’t be any vampires so close to the settlements.”

***

“You’re going to go alone?” Lydia’s brow wrinkled. “Is that wise?”

Auerelie looked up from the book in her lap. “I’m more than capable.” She sighed. “I don’t even know if the Greybeards would let you in. I’m not sure they’ll let  _ me _ in.”

***

“What is your name, Dragonborn?”   
  
“Auerelie,” she replied softly, her head bowed.   
  
“And so you appear at the turn of a new era. I am Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards.” Arngeir looked down at the crown of her head. He touched her shoulder, and she peered up at him. To him, she still looked so young, but her eyes held the ages.

  
“And why have you come?”   
  
Auerelie took a step back and looked down at the monk. “Because I’m afraid. Because I don’t understand.” She stood there shivering in her woolen cloak. The snow in her hair had melted, making it stick uncomfortably to her face. “Because the Gods have chosen me for their amusement.”

“This is a difficult path you’ve been placed on.” Arngeir frowned. “And it is the privilege of the Greybeards to help you walk that path.” Three other monks joined Arngeir. “Now, come, let us have a taste of your Voice. Shout. If you can.”

Auerelie hesitated. She did not trust herself with this new power.

“You will not harm us. We’ll hear you, Dragonborn.”

She breathed in deeply several times, and on the last exhale, her voice filled the room, “ _ FUS! _ ”

The Greybeards remained standing, and Auerelie was glad for it. She hated the hum of this strange power under her skin. Arngeir approached her, his gait even and sure.

“You are indeed Dragonborn.” He bowed his head. “There is much we have to teach you, young one.”

“What does all this mean?” She balled her hands into fists. “Why here? Why You? Why me?”

Arngeir turned to her, his hands folded in front of him. “You stand in High Hrothgar. Here the Greybeards have dwelled since the first. Here on the slopes of Kynareth's sacred mountain, we commune with the voice of the sky, and strive to achieve balance between our inner and outer selves.”

“What… if I don’t want to be… this?” Her shoulders slumped forward. “I’ve already fought my wars. I wish to put down my sword.”

The monks looked at each other before resting their heavy gaze on Auerelie. “Some believe that Dragonborn are sent into the world by the gods, at times of great need.”

She shook her head. “The Gods have chosen… poorly. I am one… elf. A soldier. A hunter. I’m special in that I lived where others died.”

“And perhaps that it is why. The will of the Gods is not ours to know.” Arngeir led her deeper into the monastery.”

***

Agmaer trudged up the stairs to High Hrothgar. Despite the bone-aching cold, this high up the sky looked so close that he could reach out and pluck one of the stars. The moons hung low and shone bright. He could see the whole of Skyrim stretched out before him.

Once inside, he shook the snow and ice from his clothes. It was not much warmer inside, but at least the building kept the wind out. Lanterns hung from a high ceiling, highlighting the shape of the main chamber.

“You stand in the home of the Greybeards.” Arngeir appeared from the deeper shadows. “Why have you come?”

Agmaer cleared his throat a few times. “I’m Agmaer. Sir. It’s an… honor to meet you.” He tried to smooth his damp hair back from his face. “I looking for a high elf named Auerelie. She came up here a few weeks ago.”

“And what is your business with this individual?”

“She never came back to Ivarstead. I need to know she’s alright.”

“Master Arngeir, I would speak with him.” Auerelie stepped forward, and the low light cast a golden haze around her. She wore the heavy, dark robes of the Greybeards. “Agmaer…” Her expression softened.

The monk stepped aside, and Agmaer did everything but fling himself at his wife. Auerelie wrapped her arms tightly around him, burying her face in his hair. He never failed to feel like love. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Agmaer took a step back, looking up at her with bright blue eyes. She cupped his face in her hands. “My sun and sky.” After a moment, she let him go. “Master Arngeir, this is my husband.”

Arngeir nodded. “Ah. You’ve come to join the Dragonborn?”

“If I can. I wanna stay.” Agmaer squeezed his wife’s hand.

“I see no harm in it as long as you do not interrupt our meditations.”

Auerelie started to pull Agmaer away. “We have much a discuss.”

***

“Ustengrav?” Agmaer looked down at his map with a frown. Hjaalmarch was a long way off, and he did not like the idea of Auerelie going into the ancient ruin without backup. “Surely, the Greybeards won’t mind if someone goes with you.”

She shook her head. “I have to go in alone. It’s my… initiation. I… don’t want to go, but I feel like I have to.” Her brows scrunched. “I…” She tapped her fingers against the map with a thoughtful expression tinged with melancholy. “Dexion told me… before we went to Ancestor Glade that I had been touched by the Divines. He said he saw a light in me so bright that it hurt. What if…”

Agmaer took her hand, sliding his fingers between hers. “If you want to stop, we’ll stop. I’ll tell the Greybeards, the Jarl, Isran, and the Divines that you don’t want to fight anymore. We’ll go home. I promise.”

She laughed weakly. “I dreamed… that I was standing on a beach at night. The stars were so… bright.” She quirked a smile. “I was waiting for the sun to come up, but it didn’t. Darkness devoured the sky, rushing across everything like a wave. I remember the feeling of being swept away. It was so cold that I couldn’t breathe.” Her eyes closed, and she took in a few steadying breaths. “Then I heard nothing. All was the void. I think…  _ I feel _ … that I have to do something. Even if… even if I had nothing in this world, in this life, I couldn’t let it be destroyed.”

Agmaer pulled her close, hugging her tight enough to steal her breath.

She slowly pulled away, her eyes wet. “So I will go to Ustengrav. Did you and Lydia find anything in Ivarstead?”

“No. I think it was just the one vampire. Not a clan. Lydia did well.” He sighed lightly. “She’s pretty… upset that she’s not at your side.”

Auerelie rubbed at her eyes. “I don’t need a bodyguard. Don’t want one.” She dropped her head on his shoulder. “You think she’ll go to Fort Dawnguard?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I think she feels… slighted.”

“Gods,” she sighed. “You nords and your sense of honor.”

Agmaer laughed softly. “I’ll take her back to the fort with me. It’s homebase for now, anyway.” He squeezed her hand. “Maybe I’ll start getting everything together for our move to Solitude. Something to look forward to.”

“Alright.” She started to roll up the map. “We’ll head out tomorrow. I’ll send you message once I get the horn. I plan on stopping over in Morthal before heading back.”

“Lydia and I will stay in Ivarstead for a few more days just to sweep over the area one more time.” He kissed her. “Please, be as safe as possible.”

“I promise.”

***

Aurelie reread the cryptic note that was left where the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller should have been.

_ Dragonborn- _

_ I need to speak to you. Urgently. _

_ Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I’ll meet you. _

_ -A friend _

She drew in a deep, long breath through her nose then slowly blew it out again. After resisting the urge to turn the note into ash, she stowed it away and started the long trek to Riverwood. It galled her that someone thought they could move her like a toy soldier across the map.


End file.
